Oblivio Persona Inimicus Careo
by Fedzgurl
Summary: After surviving the war, Severus Snape’s goal is to disappear. Unfortunately, there’s one person who’s finding it impossible to forget him. SLASH Warnings and Author's Notes inside.


**Disclaimer: **I own nothing here that is recognizable… the characters and most of the places are intellectual property of JK Rowling. I'm making no profit off of the following—it is only for fun.

**Warning: **There's a smidgen of sex and a few of the characters have mildly dirty mouths; otherwise it's quite tame. Also, it goes without saying that this is full of Deathly Hallows spoilers. I have decided to completely acknowledge JK Rowling's canon, and except her challenge.

**A/N: **This was written for the SnupinSanta exchange on LJ's LupinSnape, for fireflyquill. I doubt that, as a writer, I could have asked for a more appropriate match. Thank you to fireflyquill for creating such an amazing prompt that all but wrote itself—I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

**Oblivio Persona Inimicus Careo **

His hand thudded to the floor as he let his eyes slide out of focus, and by the way that the boy slunk out of the room, he knew that his acting had been sufficient enough to convince him of his death. He waited only until he no longer heard footsteps echoing through the shack; prudence told him it would be wiser to make sure he would not be caught, but his vision was getting disturbingly darker, and he knew that he could not afford to wait much longer.

Twitching his wand took more energy than he would have liked to admit, and by the time the house elf had arrived, he knew he had lost a critical amount of blood. Nevertheless, he was still cognizant enough to realize when she had sufficiently clotted the wound on his neck, and he felt some modicum of strength returning to him as she massaged the blood replenisher down his throat.

He blacked out for a short time, but when he opened his eyes, the elf was still standing over him. Summoning all of his remaining strength, he raised his wand.

"_Obliviate_."

The house elf blinked slowly down at him.

"You have been watching the grounds. A second siege of Hogwarts is approaching, and you will return to the house elves and help them protect the castle. You will never mention that you came here."

The elf nodded dumbly. "Winky remembers only that she sees Harry Potter returning to the Castle." With a pop, she disappeared.

He continued to lie on the floor of the shack, trying to will his body to somehow find the strength he would need. An indeterminable amount of time had passed since the snake had attacked him, but the sun had been up for a good while and he was certain that he could hear the roar of yet another battle back at the castle.

With a deep, pained breath he was able to bring himself to his feet, but it still took a few minutes of heavy panting to clear his vision and ensure that he wouldn't faint before he'd begun his journey. Once he was certain that his shaking legs would be able to carry him at least down the tunnel, he began the process of shuffling out of the shack. The walk was exhausting, and seemed to take ages, yet with each pounding heartbeat he could be nothing but thankful that he had not yet encountered another person or obstacle.

A shout went up as he reached the Apparition Point, but for the first time, he was able to fight off the urge to go towards it or wonder which side of the war was celebrating. After several deep breaths through his nose, he turned sharply, and disappeared from the Forrest clearing with a soft pop.

Severus Snape was finally a free man.

* * *

Remus Lupin was waking up from what had been the worst transformation of his life. He flexed his aching fingers, slowly, and listened for any hint of where he might be. As he rolled his head, trying to turn away from the light source in the room before opening his eyes, he heard a gasp and frantic whispering from a distance. His lupine instincts took control, and he held perfectly still until the approaching footsteps had stopped near the cot he was lying in.

"R-Remus?" asked a hesitant female voice.

He cracked an eye wide enough to see Hermione Granger standing over him, her wand trained on his chest and her eyes full of fear.

"Mizzz… 'Ran-er?" he responded, hating how gravely his voice was.

The girl's eyes flooded with tears as she dropped her wand to the nearby tabletop and helped him take a drink of water, babbling nonsense the entire time. "So certain you were gone… or that only Moony would be left, … but we're so glad, and oh…" But it was the look of both relief and fear on the pale face of the young man standing behind her that brought his lost memories to the forefront.

The battle on the grounds, with the entire Order trying to fend off the attacking Death Eaters, the frantic need to protect the school and Harry, Dora showing up and joining him on the field, the duel with Doholov and the realization that Bellatrix was targeting her niece, trying to shout a warning before the blinding flash of green light, and then…

"I was… dead?"

"You were," Harry answered, and it was difficult to say whether he or Hermione was more surprised that he had spoken. "You died in the battle; I summoned you with Sirius and my parents, but Hermione…"

The girl took a shaky breath. "All old Muggle folktales say that werewolves can only be killed by silver, and since most of them are based in fact, I thought…"

"Moony didn't die, so I wouldn't either," he finished for her.

"That was our hope, yes," she replied, her voice trembling.

Again, the flash of green light exploded behind his eyes. "But Dora…"

Hermione turned away silently, and Harry turned a sickening shade of grey, leaving the unasked question easily answered. Although his stomach had dropped, Remus knew that his wife's death should have brought out considerably more emotion in him. As it was, he could hardly describe himself as feeling anything more significant than an overwhelming sense of numbness. A sick voice in his head asked if he was really alive, or if it was _only _Moony that had survived.

"Who else did we lose?" His eyelids were growing heavy, but he had to know; he had to feel _something_.

"A few Aurors, some students: Collin Creevey, Fred Weasley," Hermione's voice cracked on the last name.

"Professor Snape," Harry added somberly.

"Severus?"

"Lord Voldemort killed him," Harry answered, staring into Remus' eyes, "but not before he'd proven his loyalties. He'd set it all up… he set it up so I'd win."

It was as if a floodgate had opened inside of him: Severus, who had betrayed them all, who had hated him for years, who had been equally loathed by the entire Wizarding world, who had died for all of them… who had died completely alone, as they all had doubted his loyalty, and had too quickly accepted his supposed betrayal.

For the first time since being cursed, Remus reacted in a human fashion—he wept.

* * *

Severus had been pleasantly surprised to find his home at Spinner's End still standing—with the number of enemies he'd acquired on both sides of the war, he'd been certain the small tenant house would have been ransacked during the year since he'd killed Albus Dumbledore.

It took a couple of days before he was able to gain enough strength to scale the narrow stairway to his bedroom, but after the backaches that he had gotten from sleeping on the couch he was able to push himself to sleep in a proper bed. The majority of his emergency potions kit was still in the loo down the hall, and within a week, he was able to make his way around with relatively little difficulty.

Three more days and he found his magic nearly back to the power he had prior to the attack. Once he was certain that he had mastered simple spells like cleaning and levitating objects, he began pouring through his book collection to begin work on the final process of setting up his post-War life. Difficult as it was not to hurry through the preparations, he paced himself. Exhaustion would only delay his work further, and the limited amount of Wizarding news that he listened to confirmed that he had no reason to rush. There were no warrants out for his arrest, no Aurors searching for his whereabouts or trying to comb his home for evidence.

The world was believing that he was dead, which only made his work easier—the more they ignored his memory, the more likely his spell was to work, and in a matter of time he knew he'd have a second chance at life in the Wizarding world.

* * *

Remus tucked the last few of his Get Well cards into a pocket in his robe, and was shrinking a gift basket from the Weasley family when Harry burst into the hospital wing.

"You didn't say you were leaving today," he stated simply, his voice betraying a bit of his hurt.

"I hardly need to be here anymore," Remus replied, "physically, I feel better than I did before the battle—it's time to try to return to a sense of normalcy, Harry."

The boy blushed and examined his trainers. "I know, I just… I guess I thought I'd've seen… Tonks' mum by now."

Remus had wondered when that topic would come up, unsurprised that Harry didn't know, since he'd only received the owl two days previous. "Harry," he started, kindly as he could, "if that's your subtle way of asking where Teddy is; he won't be coming home with me."

Harry's eyes flared up, and Remus knew he was preparing to row with him the same as they had at 12 Grimmauld Place. He held up a hand for silence. "Before you argue, sit down and listen."

Reluctantly, the boy did as was asked.

"To begin with, Andromeda sent me an owl just the other day, outlining her plan to get full custody of her grandson,"

"WHAT?!" Harry shouted, surging to his feet again.

"and I consented. He belongs in a stable home with his family, and Andromeda Tonks can give him that."

"But you're his DAD! You can give it to him, too! What right did that old…"

"She had every right," he said with a sigh, taking a seat on the cot facing Harry. "I take it, in her research, that Hermione didn't look into the—finer details of werewolf physiology."

Harry stared at him blankly, "What does that have to do with Teddy?"

"Harry… Teddy isn't my son by blood. He can't be; werewolves are sterile by nature, and I didn't take the potions necessary to negate the curse. I would never have brought a baby into the middle of a war like that, and as I told you months ago, I certainly wouldn't have saddled my own child with someone of my standing as a father… not during those times."

"But… but she was your wife. And you just acted like…"

"She was my wife because she so badly wanted to be married, and I didn't know that she was pregnant until after the ceremony. When I did find out, she needed me and the baby needed a father… like you said, I couldn't leave them in that situation. And I… I cared for 'Dora, and I grew to love her. But I can hardly claim her son as my own when I have no job and no blood ties to him. Andromeda's been exceptionally considerate—I still have visitation rights, and you'll still be his godfather, but he'll be physically in her custody at all times. You have to understand that it's better this way, Harry."

Harry continued to look troubled, but he didn't put up another argument and after a few moments of silence, Remus resumed packing the last few of his belongings.

"Where will you go?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Home," Remus responded, "I have a cabin near Leeds." He hesitated a few moments, "It's connected to the Floo network, if you ever care for a visit."

The way that Harry's face lit up made him feel strangely guilty for his lack of participation in the boy's childhood—particularly after leaving Hogwarts. "I promise not to be a stranger," he said pleasantly, hoping that he'd pick up on his meaning.

"I didn't expect you to," Harry said brightly, although the relief in his smile told Remus differently.

"Right, then… I'll talk to you soon, Harry." Gathering his parcel under his arm, Remus grabbed a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into the Hospital Wing hearth.

* * *

Severus was in his element. Soothing though he'd always found bubbling cauldrons and finicky ingredients, it was amongst his piles of dusty books and parchments, scribbling in Latin that he felt most at peace. The conjugations had been going badly this morning, and so far all hypothetical wandwork had resulted in little more than a smashed teacup and a singe in the rug, but he remained optimistic. The pieces of the spell were slowly coming together; the first he'd created in years, really, so difficulties were to be expected.

He shuffled back through the parchments, studying his initial diagram and checking the Latin against the spell parts.

_Oblivio _had been scrawled into the top corner of the chart, it being the primary portion of the spell. Severus had placed multiple stars under it, the conjugation and transcription of it would be the most important. He had to ensure that the spell would make all those that it was applied to forget him entirely, but to make sure that it applied i _only /i _to his memories. Though most would probably not believe it, he had no intention of destroying the Wizarding world—wiping them of anything more than those memories that were absolutely necessary could leave the entire society in chaos, so he had to put as much care into the spellwork as he could.

The word _Persona _was written, crossed out, and rewritten numerous times under _Oblivio_, as he had continually debated its necessity in the incantation before deciding that it would be the easiest way to apply the spell to himself. _Inimicus _would ensure that it was cast only on the proper cohort of wizards; those who had ever considered him a foe or a nemesis, which should include the majority of the population of living wizards and witches. Even if they did know his intentions in killing Dumbledore, and the motivations behind his other actions during the war—the Potter brat would have inevitably made his memories public by this point—he doubted that society at large would take as easily to forgiving him as they had believing he was a war hero who'd perished in battle.

The final part had been a tricky one to decide on, as the intended meaning could be phrased numerous ways, and he tapped his lip with his forefinger as he considered the word that he'd finally scrawled across the bottom of the parchment: _Careo_, lack of care. He'd doubted for a great while that there were any people with magical knowledge left in Britain who would feel entirely neutral towards the name "Severus Snape," but in order to cover all of his Quidditch rings, he knew that it would be wise to include.

The combinations were still numerous, and the final process of channeling the incantation would be hellish—he knew he still had at least a week of work in front of him. Nevertheless, he thought with a smile, he could _feel _the ingenuity coming back to him, and knew that he was on the correct track. His most difficult, most experimental, most important charm was just beyond his fingertips. But the wait, and the work, would be worth the while.

Severus was a puzzle away from his new start.

* * *

Nearly a week passed before Harry and the other Order members had been able to pry Remus away from his cabin, but after multiple owls and two visits from an insistent Harry, he agreed to meet up for Sunday dinner at the Burrow.

The most notable difference in the group of people that met him when he arrived was the lack of occupants, though rationally Remus knew they'd been fortunate in how few in numbers the Order of the Phoenix had actually lost. That said, the get-together grew exceedingly painful as he continued waiting for Moody's customary "vigilance" interjections, or the mass chaos that Nympahdora's propensity towards clumsiness brought with her—Teddy's excited jibbering as he reached for Remus and changed his hair bright green only exacerbated his depression. Worst, though, was the lack of life that the Weasley twins had always seemed to exude; although George seemed more than happy to produce odd flashes of magic to make the baby laugh, the merriment that had seemed to follow both him and his brother was good as gone, and he spent the majority of the party either alone or with Teddy.

The other attendees, however, seemed intent on ignoring all of these details: the other Weasley's were too busy celebrating the anticipation of their first grandchild, as Bill and Fleur had announced their pregnancy, while the younger children were busy debating the value of returning for their final years at Hogwarts. Minerva McGonagall would discuss little outside of the rebuilding of the damaged school, while Kingsley Shacklebolt was equally set on Ministry reforms and rebuilding the system that had been so deeply damaged by Fudge's incompetence, Scrimgeour's overzealousness, and the Death Eater's year of intense corruption. While Remus was legitimately interested in his plans for the rights of werewolves and other "magical beings," he found little interest in the ongoing conversations throughout the night.

Although he was truly trying to enjoy himself, Remus couldn't ignore the deep sense of loss the others seemed so eager to ignore, and resorted to merely nodding and responding when addressed, as the others continued their parody of normalcy around him.

* * *

It was with no small amount of trepidation that Severus pulled the new robes over his head and regained his wand. He knew that all of the preparations he'd done to get ready to cast the new spell were trifling, but as he set the incantation charts out on the table in front of him, he took comfort in them.

If something went wrong with the spell, at the very least, he would be discovered in a clean house, wearing his best robes; Severus was still vain enough to take some comfort in the thought… he wouldn't be mistaken for a madman experimenting (and really, it was so much more proper than rotting in a bloody pool in the shrieking shack as he suspected would have been his other fate).

He shook his head to clear _that _thought from his head. Dwelling on the "_could have beens_" would only drive him crazy; it was something that he'd known for years. He channeled his focus back to the task at hand, setting out the final parts necessary to complete his spell. He flipped one last time through the pile of prepared parchments he'd worked so hard on—each already spelled to apply his enchantment to any person on the list. He'd scrawled thousands of names on it in the past few days, every class ledger that he could ever remember, every classmate that he knew was still alive (he sadly reminisced on how few there were), any wizard or witch he'd ever remembered coming into contact with, was recorded and about to be unwittingly charmed. He took a deep breath and took his wand into his hand. There was trepidation in his every movement—Merlin only knew what might happen if the spell proved to be unsuccessful.

… but if it was… he'd decided long ago that the risks were worth the potential benefits. With grim determination, Severus raised his wand, and began the complicated movements of his own design.

* * *

Try as he might, Remus could not force himself to find interest, or indeed happiness, in the dinner. The inanity of the conversation, coupled with the joyful charade that the entire party seemed desperate to exhibit, only grated worse on his nerves, until the dull throbbing behind his eyes had developed into a full-fledged, vision-blurring headache. In an attempt to drown out the continued awkwardness, he applied his attention to the meal, and counted backwards from 100 in Latin. He vaguely heard Harry begin to share his plans for the Auror department, when the room suddenly went very quiet.

He noticed the cold draft of air before any of the others at the table seemed to—the small hairs on the back of his neck rose, and the rest of the occupants at the table appeared to be shaking it off as the sensation ceased. Harry's eyes glazed strangely, and he hesitated while the entire table seemed to wait for something to pass. Only Teddy seemed immune to whatever had occurred, happily burbling from his highchair in the corner.

"Er… sorry, lost my train of thought," Harry said slowly, and Remus noticed the rest of the table nod in the same confused manner. The baby continued babbling happily, and after a few moments of continued silence, the table began conversation anew—if more awkwardly than before the incident.

The dinner party adjourned soon after, much to Remus' great relief. He quickly gathered his cloak and made for the Apparition Point with the disconcerting feeling that _something _was quite wrong.

* * *

The feeling of stiff parchment under his cheek was the first hint Severus received that he was still alive, followed by the abominable crick in his neck. Cracking an eye open, he realized he was lying on the workroom floor—which looked like it had survived a small explosion.

He slowly pushed himself up to his hands and knees, confirming that his body hadn't been injured too badly, then sat back on his heels with a creaking sigh and read the parchment he had been lying on.

_Your name is Severus Snape. You are 38 years old. You are a wizard, and have been one your entire life. I'm sorry if you have forgotten all of this; it has been by your own doing, for your own good. You've done horrible deeds during your lifetime, and you've lived in solitude and pain—this is your chance to rectify that._

He remembered all of these things, and while it was something of a relief to realize he hadn't erased his own memory, it did little to confirm that his spell had worked. After crawling around on the ground for a moment, he procured a beaten but manageable quill. He picked a chair off of the ground, secured its frightfully wobbling leg with a silent spell, and took a seat at his work bench. After pulling a fountain of ink and a clean sheet of parchment from the adjacent drawer, he began his missive.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

* * *

Although it hardly came as a surprise, Remus had been puzzled by the degree at which the Prophet had been off in its details for the next couple of days. Entire pieces of war coverage, which had previously been in constant demand as they pieced together the horror that had been the year previous, were suddenly discontinued. Death Eater grievances became decreasingly shorter, and the name Severus Snape seemed to have been deleted from the reports altogether. While it was lovely to see Rita Skeeter finally cease her endless barrage of reports against the pardoned man's character, the drop-off in interest over all of the posthumous plans Harry had been discussing concerned him greatly.

It was ultimately this reason that had led to Remus agreeing to help Harry clean out 12 Grimmauld Place. The spell Moody had used to curse it against Snape had apparently died when the wizard himself had, and the sudden compliance of Kreacher had made their dirty work considerably easier, so that the majority of the work the two wizards had to do involved moving Harry's meager belongings in to fill the space left by the discarded Black family's dark possessions.

That was how Remus found himself, one surprisingly pleasant afternoon, helping Harry unload his remaining school books and supplies into the library of the old town house, while listening to the young man chatter about the goings on in his life that Remus had missed. He only half listened to most of what Harry talked about, interjecting odd responses and nodding along when the conversation called for it, until the monologue turned toward Remus' musings from earlier in the day.

"And then some bloke wrote, asking to do a biography on me or something," Harry added offhandedly, "which isn't odd or anything, just—I'm sure I've never heard of him, and most of the authors have been familiar."

"Maybe he was from the States?" Remus suggested, tucking a Defense book onto the shelf.

"Dunno—he didn't leave an address. Didn't leave much of anything, really, just asking about the book… and his name was a funny one, too. Snake or something."

Remus glanced up sharply as Harry shook his head again, before arranging a picture of Lily and James on his desk. "You don't have the letter anymore, do you?" Remus inquired, an odd feeling building up in his chest that he couldn't explain.

"Oh, no, I binned it after I _respectfully declined _the offer. He's the only one who didn't write back to beg."

"That's odd?" Remus asked, feeling sympathy for the boy, mixed with an odd sense of pride over how well he'd been handling the spotlight.

"Exceedingly." Harry ground out, as he hefted a moldy copy of _Advanced Potion Making _from the bottom of the final box of books. He handed it carelessly to Remus, who hadn't quite gotten a grip on the heavy book before he let go of it, leaving the book to fall heavily to the floor, scattering a fair number of pictures across the carpet. Remus bent to scoop them up, noting the yellowing corners and over-exposed lighting in all of them.

"Oh, damn, I forgot about those," Harry exclaimed, dropping to his knees to help Remus pick the photos up.

Remus, though, found himself unable to assist further in the cleanup; he could hardly breathe as he watched the snapshot of Lily Evans and Severus Snape studying in the library, Lily smiling and trying to coax her best friend to pose with her, as Snape did little more than glare and turn away from whoever the unwise photographer was. As he glanced around at the scattered pile, he realized they were all of Lily during her school years, with her enigmatic friend turning up in a few other shots. Quickly, he snatched the library shot off of the floor.

"Harry, where did you get these?" He asked quietly.

"I dunno—found them in the book, I suppose," he responded. "It's too bad some of them are so out of focus," he sighed, holding one up.

"How do you mean?" Remus asked, confused as he continued to watch the two images move around the photograph, clearly in focus.

"You know," Harry said, as if explaining something painfully obvious, "how she's kind of weirdly blurry there, and how it's all shadowy on that side." He described, pointing to the perfectly obvious image of the teenaged Severus Snape.

"Remus?" Harry asked gently, glancing at the picture himself.

Remus had picked up the book by now, and was gently feeling the dog-eared potions text, deeply in thought. "Where did you get the book, then?" He asked, flipping through the pages in awe. Although he hadn't seen it in years, he knew the scrawl was that of Snape's.

Harry shrugged, "From school, I suppose… lot of good it'll do with all the watermarks… I can barely read a bloody thing."

Remus stared at the _Levicorpus _instructions written clearly on the page he had opened to, knowing that Harry could, in fact, read the text as he remembered him asking about the specific spell years ago. "Harry," he asked with a hint of irritation, becoming more than impatient with the boy's non-answers, "WHERE in Hogwarts did you find it? Did someone give it to you?"

The boy's eyes seemed to go out of focus for a moment, as he frowned in concentration. After shaking his head a few more times—something that Remus was quickly noticing to be an involuntary response—he glanced back at Remus with a furrowed brow. "I…I don't know. I suppose… McGonagall probably gave it to me. I don't remember."

"You don't remember?" Remus asked with a frown.

"No," Harry snapped shortly. "I know you weren't… there… but after the final battle everything was pretty intense and a flurry of funerals and interviews and… and everything else. All that I know is that I got the book around then."

"Right, I'm sorry then," Remus responded, feeling rather abashed that he had pushed the boy into his answer, but still feeling fairly certain that something about the answers and hesitations was off. He didn't think that Harry was intentionally hiding anything from him, but he knew that something in the story was inherently wrong.

"At any rate," Harry said, taking the book from Remus hands and tucking the picture into it, "I think we're almost done in here—would you like to stay for some tea?" He sat the book on the desk, next to the pile of other pictures that still seemed perfectly clear to Remus.

"Actually… I think I'll be heading home," Remus replied, suddenly feeling unsettled about the way things had transpired that afternoon. He wasn't sure exactly what could be going on, but he knew that something was undoubtedly wrong with all of the Order members that he'd been in contact of late, and he needed time alone to puzzle out what it could be.

* * *

Severus slowly stirred the powdered aconite into his cauldron, smiling slightly as the potion turned from sky blue to acid green, exactly as it was supposed to. For the first time in his life, all of the ventures he took on seemed to be going his way.

Tucked into the top drawer of his desk was an owl post from Potter, politely turning down his "biography" request, along with matching responses from both Granger and McGonagall—confirming that his spell had worked exactly as intended. Despite this knowledge, he had admitted that continuing to use his given name was far less than prudent, so his first correspondence had been under a pseudonym. Now, he would be the ministry's first official brewer of Wolfsbane potion, for the inaugural ministry-insured batch. Although the anti-werewolf legislation set in place by Umbridge had yet to be overturned, the numerous challenges to it had already resulted in the free monthly Wolfsbane dosages.

And after the ferocity that Greyback and his packs had shone Wizarding Britain leading up to the final battle, Severus was posed to make a fortune each month, with the pleasure of knowing that it was the blasted Ministry that he was robbing, and not the unfortunately cursed souls that would have otherwise had to find ways to pay for the brew.

It wouldn't be an easy way to make a living, and he knew that he ran the risk of becoming so involved in his brewing that he'd miss out on the interactions that he had hoped his spell would make possible for him, but in the end he decided that his penance could be paid in far more effective ways than chumming up wizards in Diagon Alley. In time, he was certain that his work would help lead him to happiness, or as close of a semblance to happiness as he was capable of attaining.

* * *

The following morning, Remus was no farther puzzling out the strangeness that had occurred at Harry's than he had been when he'd left the young man's study, and went to the best source of information he could think of. It was still fairly early in the morning when an owl from the school returned to his window, with Minerva McGonagall stating that he was more than welcome to visit the Headmaster's study that afternoon, provided he excused her absence as she would be needed to assist the ongoing repairs to the Great Hall most of the day.

It was shortly after noon when Remus made his way through the open Floo into the headmaster's office, finding the room empty as expected, excepting the vast number of portraits that lined the walls. He approached the largest painting, which hung directly behind the large desk in the center of the room.

"Hullo—Er… Professor Dumbledore?" He addressed the portrait, suddenly feeling like a frightened first year.

The portrait immediately stirred and looked down on him, blue eyes smiling as they had in most of his memories. "Ah, Remus—you've come in search of employment, I hope?"

Remus smiled ruefully. "Minerva had hoped as well, but no; I believe that my teaching career is well and truly over. I was hoping to ask you a few questions, though."

Albus' portrait nodded, but raised a hand before he could continue. "I warn you, though, to remember what I am—a portrait is merely a memory of a person, a shadow left behind after one's life. I can't promise that I will know your answer."

"No, I know that…" Remus responded, already feeling less than hopeful, "I was just… I was wondering about a spell. I believe that we've—I mean, the Order members—we've been enchanted somehow. To forget something, or someone. Is that even possible?"

The portrait frowned slightly, and Remus noticed that the majority of the other paintings in the room were now paying full attention to their conversation. "You think that the Order was Obliviated?"

"Not Obliviated, no," Remus responded, beginning to pace in front of the wall. "It's just, there's something missing from our memories. The final battle, the past years—it's as if one piece of the past has been taken away, and we can all feel that it's gone, but we can't grasp what it is."

The portrait stared placidly back at him, although for a moment Remus was tempted to use Occlumency again; little sense though it made, he swore that the painting would be able to read his mind, and see the reason that it was bothering him so much was that Remus knew _exactly _who everyone else seemed to be forgetting.

"I do not know of any such spell—one that could erase a single person's memory from a large group of people," he responded slowly. "That doesn't mean, however, that it couldn't be invented."

There were multiple murmurs of assent from around the room, but when Remus glanced around to see if there were any further suggestions, the heads in the frames all seemed to droop again.

"Do you know what such a spell would involve? How it would work, how it could be counteracted?"

Remus wouldn't have believed that the countenance of a painting would be able to change so drastically, but the painted Albus suddenly looked very sad. "It would be difficult and extremely complicated… I would imagine that it would focus on negative feelings, and would count on being able to wipe those associations from a person's memory, relying on the idea that nothing would be left, and the entire memory would vanish."

Remus felt as if he'd been physically struck. "So in order to work…" he asked shakily, "it would require that no one—cared—for that memory."

"Or person, yes," Albus responded despondently.

Remus made his way to the chair opposite the Headmaster's desk and fell into it, regaining his composure before continuing. "And… could someone else reverse it? If they were able to puzzle out the spell?"

"That," Albus responded quickly, "would be a question for the spell's creator, I'm afraid."

It was so brief that Remus should have missed it, but he swore that the painting's eyes twinkled for a split second. He puzzled over it's meaning, before getting the implication.

"I suppose that there's work to be done, then," he responded, scooping a handful of Floo powder from the bag in his cloak pocket.

"Indeed. Good luck, Remus," Albus replied as Remus stepped into the flames.

As he spun through the Floo network towards home, Remus was the epitome of mixed emotions. While he was incensed that someone would try to defile the memory of a war hero in such a way, he also couldn't help but be excited for the tiny bit of hope the Headmaster's last comment had inspired.

If anyone could have invented such a spell, it would likely be the most inventive wizard they'd all seemed to forget. Which left one glorious possibility—Severus Snape was still alive.

* * *

The first weekend of July meant one thing for Remus—the moon would be fast approaching. Thus far, his now mandatory visit to St. Mungo's wasn't nearly as embarrassing as he'd been expecting. His wait had been short, the healers had been courteous enough, and now all he had to do was sit in his examination cot and wait for the subsidized dose of Wolfsbane.

Hermione had attempted to recruit him, multiple times, into joining her fight for the equal rights of werewolves. While he hadn't yet accepted her offer, he was highly impressed that the young witch had already managed to convince the Ministry to take such a step as providing so expensive a potion as Wolfsbane. He figured that, if he were unable to track Snape down within a reasonable amount of time, or if he ended up being successful and was able to discover what had happened to the man and the memories that everyone had of him, he would likely join Hermione's cause. For now, though, an unexplainable part of him was drawn to the mystery that was Severus Snape, and whatever enchantment was now surrounding his memory.

He was startled out of his musings when a voice very near by interrupted them. "Mr. Lupin?" The healer asked with a touch of impatience, holding the goblet of potion in front of his face.

His stomach churned; the liquid inside smelled just as vile as he could remember it. "Thank you," he sighed, accepting the goblet and drinking its contents as quickly as possible.

As soon as he'd recovered from the awful taste of the potion, he was shocked to realize how well he felt. Slughorn's attempts to brew Wolfsbane during the War had always left him sick to his stomach after; he'd never had the heart to complain, as he was thankful to have the potion, effective as it was, for free, but there was definitely something familiar in the quality of this brew.

"Excuse me," he asked the healer before she was able to step away from his curtain, "you wouldn't know who's brewing this potion for the ministry, would you?"

The witch seemed mildly taken aback by the question, but she checked her clipboard nonetheless. "It appears that this was done by a source outside of the hospital—yes, the same brewer who's taken over all of the Ministry-funded brewing… man by the name of Evan Prince."

Remus' blood ran cold at her response. He knew that he was being overly hopeful—it was nearly impossible that Severus would have chosen so obvious of a pseudonym and tried to get away with it—but he i _knew /i _that he remembered this exact quality of potion from his year at Hogwarts.

"You don't say," he responded as pleasantly as he could, hoping that the shock in his voice wasn't too obvious. "You wouldn't happen to have the contact information for him, would you? This is the best treatment I've had in a long while, and I would love to send him my compliments."

The witch flipped through the clipboard, looking somewhat suspicious. "I don't have contact information, per say, but there is a return address here from the distributor. I imagine that if it doesn't work you could contact the ministry, instead; they'd be the ones in direct contact with him."

She examined his face one last time, as if debating giving him the information, when she must have decided that he appeared a trustworthy enough beast. Tapping her wand on the board she produced a copy of one of the sheets, then handed it over to him.

"Thank you so much," Remus responded with his most winning smile, "Will that be all?"

"Your physical seems to have checked out, so yes… we'll see you next month, Mr. Lupin."

He'd barely heard her dismissal as he hurried out of the room and down the corridor of the hospital. By the time that he'd reached the nearest Floo exit he was already setting up his plan to confront the man that he hopefully assumed would prove to be Severus Snape.

* * *

It had taken a rather healthy amount of firewhisky and two days worth of debating, but Remus finally gathered up the courage to Apparate to the address that the Healer had given him. The row of cramped Muggle tenant houses were not at all like the locales Remus had been imagining he might find Snape hiding out, and he began to worry that the accomplished spy had merely sent the potions from a false address, but he figured that checking the information would do no harm. He made his way up the lane until he had reached the final house on Spinner's End, then approached the front door, searching for some sign of life behind the dark, closed curtains in the front window. He was unable to notice any.

With a deep breath, Remus raised his hand to the door knocker and pounded it three times, before he could change his decision. After a span of what felt like at least a lifetime, the door finally cracked open, wide enough for a man's face to glance out.

It took all of the willpower he possessed not to gasp, though he knew his face had registered some extreme feeling, as the man withdrew behind the door and began to close it again.

"Mr. Prince?" He asked, hoping that Severus wouldn't retreat into the house and slam the door in his face. It was undoubtedly Severus Snape—the face may have seemed a bit more drawn, there were a few new lines around his mouth, and, despite the poor lighting, Remus could tell that there was now a decent amount of steel grey in his jet black hair—but the piercing black eyes left no doubt of who he was dealing with. Remus was glad he'd practiced his Occlumency before making the trip, as he was certain he could feel _something _pressing against his thoughts.

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you, sir, but I'm looking for a man, he's a sort of chemist," Remus took to rambling, hoping that Severus would respond to him eventually, and preferably without kicking him off the stoop. "You see, I—I have this condition, and it's incurable, but I've been getting treatments for it—and, well, last month I got a new one from my hospital, and it was highly improved from their others… and it reminded me of an old treatment that I remember…"

Severus cracked the door open further and held up a hand. "My name is Evan Prince, and I did brew for St. Mungo's last month," he glanced up and down the street, warily, "and I believe that this conversation should be continued somewhere less… public." Despite the apparent invitation inside, Snape didn't seem in a hurry to move from his position blocking the door. "No one came with you, did they? You're alone?" The suspicion in his eyes was blatant, and now Remus was certain that he felt someone probing against his Occlumency shield.

Even as he began to answer, he noticed Snape's eyes frantically glancing up the lane again. "No, I came on my own. I got your address from my Healer."

With a sharp nod, Severus stepped aside, and Remus stepped into the dimly lit room behind him. He could see a small cauldron and parchments littering a small table, and innumerable bookshelves lining the walls full of old, leather-bound books and crystal vials full of potions ingredients. There was an enjoining living room visible through an open doorway, where he could see still more books, and green upholstered furniture surrounding a large desk with still more parchment. The familiarity of the room, reminding him so much of the times he was called to Severus' quarters, made Remus want to cry. He was grateful that Snape had kept his back to him as he'd made his way into said living room and stood over the desk.

"Now, what was the reason you've come, Mr. Lupin?" Severus asked suddenly, sounding simultaneously irritated and suspicious.

Remus paused for a moment, and was sure to clear the tightness in his throat before answering. "As I said, the treatment this month was by far the best I'd ever received and the Healers were implying that you wouldn't be brewing for them again," Severus made an impatient noise, as he suddenly found the parchments cluttering his desk to be in need of straightening. "And… well, I was hoping…"

"They were correct," Snape cut him off, "the Ministry was not going to be able to foot the bill for my variant, and individual—lycanthropes—would not be able to afford it themselves."

"Perhaps the price could be lowered, then…" Remus began.

"I barely turned a profit on last month's supply as it was," Severus responded, glaring at the accusation that he was overcharging.

"Then you could look for a cheaper supplier? I don't suppose the ministry would help subsidize…"

"I _am _the supplier," Severus answered in a huff, "I grow the majority of my own ingredients, buy the more exotic ones wholesale, and do all of the preparations and brewing myself. It isn't the supplies that are expensive when brewing the Wolfsbane, Mr. Lupin, it's my time."

"How much help do you have?" Remus asked sagely.

As he'd expected, the question caused Snape to blank. "Help?"

"Yes—do you have any assistants? Someone to look over the garden or to help you prepare the simpler ingredients?"

"I…of course not. The time it would take to train someone to do the work that is required, and the liability, and the chance that I'd end up with a nut who only wanted to sabotage such a potion in some harebrained attempt to get back at Greyback…"

"What if it was a lycanthrope that you hired? Someone who wouldn't dream of tampering with a potion that he needed?"

Severus eyed him suspiciously, "And where would I find a werewolf who had enough education to actually be of any help?"

Remus shrugged, "I completed my Potion's NEWT with a respectable O, and even though I haven't done much Herbology or brewing since, I'm certain I have enough background to at least help with the mundane and elementary tasks."

"Out of the question," Snape said with little consideration, turning back to the parchments.

"Please, at least think on it," Remus begged. "I'll even work sans pay, if you simply need the help—I have a decent enough pension from the war…all I'm asking is for the Potion. Yours is better than any other treatment that I've had, and I can't tell you how much it helps me and the other werewolves in Britain."

Snape looked up from his desk and further studied Remus. "I'll consider hiring you temporarily… a month long trial to see how efficient a hired assistant would be. I promise to brew Wolfsbane for i _you /i _at the end of this month, but the ministry supply will depend on our productivity." He tapped his fingers on the surface behind him, pursing his lips in thought. "Would you be willing to participate in research?"

Remus hesitated, "If I was certain that it was necessary, and didn't pose to great a risk."

Severus smirked and nodded, "That's more than reasonable… very well, then. You can assist me, _temporarily_, for the month of August. We'll decide at the end of the month where we'll go from there. But you can't live-in… I've already done with one free-loading assistant, and it turned out for the worst."

"I have my own house," Remus responded, "provided we work somewhat normal hours, I have no problem Apparating back and forth."

Snape nodded again in approval. "In that case, if you'd arrive here no later than 8am next Monday, we can begin our trial."

Remus bowed his head briefly, and turned towards the door. "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Prince—I'm certain I won't let you down."

Snape responded only with a tight smile as he closed the door behind him, but Remus felt he was walking on clouds as he returned to his Apparition spot and made his way home. If there was anyway he would get to the bottom of what was going on between Snape and the rest of the Order, this would be it.

* * *

Remus stood on Severus' stoop the following Monday feeling rather like a nervous first year queuing up for his first day of lessons at Hogwarts. Shaking the ridiculous feeling off—he'd already done the hard part of convincing Snape to have him around—he quickly adjusted his new work robes and knocked on the front door.

His mind was clear enough this time to actually sense the identification spell as it passed through the door, and Remus did his best to smile as the door cracked open, revealing Severus to be as painfully paranoid as he had been during his previous visit.

"Good morning," Remus greeted him brightly.

Seemingly convinced that Remus was alone, Severus merely nodded and stepped aside, allowing Remus to enter.

"Who is it that you're so worried about me bringing?" Remus asked as he crossed the threshold. "You don't have some crazy secret past, do you?" Severus froze, and Remus realized he'd gone too far, too soon. "A jilted lover, perhaps, jealously lurking down the street?" To his relief, it brought a snort out of the other man.

"Hardly," Snape huffed, sweeping past Remus and passing behind a bookcase, indicating that he should follow him.

The bookcase proved to be an entry to a workroom, which had a large window overlooking what looked like an herb garden in the patch of lawn behind the house. "Right now, your primary job is going to be to manage the garden in the back. I'll have you prepare some ingredients, _if_ you prove as capable as you claim to be," Snape looked unconvinced, "and in time you may brew some of the simpler orders that I get—particularly when I have to work on more complicated potions. Do you have any questions?"

"Not at the moment, I was hoping to get a look at the garden before I started."

"Very well, then," Snape replied, dismissing him as he turned to the cauldron that was sitting on his workbench.

"Oh, and Mr. Prince?" Remus asked, consciously reminding himself to get the name correct.

Snape winced as he turned to answer the name. "Please, don't call me that," he responded, looking to Remus to finish his inquiry.

"Ah… I figured you would prefer it to Evan."

"You assumed correctly," Severus sneered.

Remus frowned in confusion. "So… what would you like me to call you?"

Snape turned back to his cauldron before answering the question. "As it will only be the two of us working, I see no need to use personal addresses."

Remus blinked at the odd request, but didn't respond to it. "Was there anything else?" Snape asked over his shoulder.

"No, I'll be out back if you need anything," he answered, walking out the backdoor and wondering exactly what kind of situation he'd thrown himself into.

* * *

Remus' first two days working for Snape were pleasantly uneventful—the garden had been meticulously cared for and required very little work on his part, and Snape had only needed a few fetch and carry jobs done which required very little thought on his part. He'd apparently proven himself well enough, though, as Severus set him to chopping valerian roots on the third day, as he brewed the base solution they would be needed for.

He set about to chopping the roots as directed, and within fifteen minutes had completed the task and handed them over to Snape as he heard an owl tapping at the window. He'd not even had time to pay the owl for its delivery before he heard Snape scoff.

"These are _completely _useless." He hissed quietly. "I asked you to chop the roots, not mangle the bloody things."

"Sorry?" Remus asked, failing to see what he'd done wrong.

Severus held up a tiny piece of the root, the look on his face implying that he was about to impart the most obvious piece of information to the biggest dunderhead in the world. "Do you see how ragged the edges are? CLEARLY the knife needed to be sharpened PRIOR to abusing the ingredients."

"I… I didn't realize that the tools needed to be prepared as well." Remus answered, dumbfounded.

Severus sighed and made a complicated motion with his wand over the roots, which suddenly evened and lost their ragged look. "Take more care, next time," he said shortly, sucking on his teeth before adding them to the rolling liquid in his cauldron.

Shocked at the implication that there would even be a "next time," Remus nodded and murmured another apology before applying himself to the package that had previously been delivered. Although he'd never directly watched Snape teach a Potion class, he had a distinct feeling that he wouldn't have been so forgiving with his regular Hogwarts' students.

Remus spent the remainder of the afternoon puzzling out whether this was a good or a bad sign.

* * *

He'd been asked to prepare a simple sleeping draught for St. Mungo's the next day, and much to Remus' surprise, Snape had all but left him alone in the workroom to complete it. He returned to expect the work as Remus was finishing pouring the completed potion into vials.

"These are passable," Severus said, examining one of the vials with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

"Am I dreaming? Did _you _actually just pay _me _a compliment?"

"I didn't compliment it," Severus sneered, "I said that it was passable—I wouldn't fail my third years if they turned this level of work in."

Remus smirked at his reply. "Third year, hmm? You taught, then?" He asked innocently, watching Severus' reaction as he began to place the remaining vials into the package for delivery.

"I…No." Severus hesitated, and Remus was highly amused as he watched him try to backpedal from the response. It could only be a good sign, he reasoned, if he was letting his guard down enough to make a slip-up like he had. "I was a tutor for a while… for extra funding. I helped Pureblooded children during the summer with potions and defense work; to help them stay ahead."

"Cheating the system for the sake of Pureblood superiority, then? Funny, you didn't seem the type." While he enjoyed toying with the man, Remus couldn't help but be impressed with his ability to tell lies while under pressure.

"It wasn't for the sake of Pureblood superiority; it was for the advancement of magical education. I'd have done the same for any Muggle-born with the galleons to purchase my time, had it been legal," Severus snapped, a frown line forming between his brows.

Remus raised his hands in a show of apology. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to implicate what I did. I suppose it's a result of the war, the assumption that someone would do such a thing solely on the purpose of advancing a pureblood agenda."

"Yes, well… my intentions were never linked to discriminating between blood types," Snape responded, chopping the roots on his workbench with more force than Remus figured was absolutely necessary.

"Right. I suppose I'll just… owl these off and be on my way for the day, then. Unless you had anything else you need me to do," Remus replied awkwardly.

"No," Snape stated, continuing to murder the roots, "no, you can ship them off and go. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Alright," said Remus, making his way towards the workroom door, "and I truly am sorry, for implying…"

"Don't worry on it," Severus responded, not turning to look at him.

Remus did continue to think about it after he had returned home, though, and he could only gather that Snape's defensive response to the Pureblood accusation was a sign of a guilty conscience; something he remorsefully stored away for future use.

* * *

Remus' work only continued to improve in the following week, so that when the shipment of aconite arrived the week before the full moon, he could only figure that the two of them would be producing the ministry's next shipment of Wolfsbane. Severus snorted at the idea when Remus had made it known. "_I _will be brewing the ministry's Wolfsbane order, yes," he replied, a smile that Remus now knew to differentiate from a full-blown sneer spreading across his face. "_You _will be occasionally prepping ingredients for next weeks orders and tending to the garden."

"Wouldn't it be more helpful for me to assist you with the potion?" Remus asked. "What if we—I don't know—tinkered with the instructions, just a bit? The preparation order wouldn't matter, would it, so long as all of the ingredients were mixed in the proper order? You only have until the end of the week to finish it if it's to be shipped in time, and if I remember correctly, the base alone takes two days work, not to mention the prepping of all of the other ingredients. Isn't aconite a particularly time-consuming preparation?"

"It is," Snape sighed, "and I do regret that I've waited so long to agree to take the order in the first place, but I also know that I'm more than capable of finishing it within the week, even if it will take more work than I would like to do."

"Right... but if I brewed the base…" Remus countered.

"It's never been done," Severus interrupted, "and brewing very rarely works in parts like you seem to believe it does—separating the reagents would likely render the brew, or at least parts of it, ineffective. Merlin knows the consequences that would come from—as you so delicately put it—_tinkering _with ingredients so potent as aconite."

"It just seems that there must be an easier way to produce it," Remus sighed, standing on his toes to read over Severus' shoulder. "And—from what I can read of that chicken scratch—I could definitely brew that base."

"You're trying to steal my methods, aren't you?" Severus asked bemusedly, turning his head far enough that he was facing Remus' lips.

"You're on to me," Remus sighed dramatically, "But the sooner I figure how to brew it for myself, the sooner I'm out of your hair." He grinned, deliberately inching closer to Severus' face as he did so.

"Hmm," Severus paused, pulling the book out of Remus' line of vision and snapping it shut, "Then I'd best prevent your catching on, hadn't I?"

A couple of moments passed as they both stood facing each other, before Severus seemed to come to his senses. Clearing his throat, he turned to the package of aconite that Remus had set on the table, inspecting its quality in a hurried, distracted manner. "Haven't you got work to do in the garden?" He asked suddenly.

Remus swallowed a sigh at the dismissal, before reluctantly stepping away from him and making his way towards the backdoor. "Yes, I suppose that I do… let me know if you need anything."

There was no response from the other man as he shut the door behind him.

* * *

Knowing how busy the day was going to prove to be, Remus decided to arrive at Spinners End an hour early the following morning. He knew that it was presumptuous, but he figured that Snape would be the type up in the early hours of the morning. He approached the house just after sunrise and rapped his customary knock on the door.

After knocking a second time and not feeling so much as a spell, Remus began to feel a sense of panic; what if there were others who had discovered Snape's hideout, Death Eaters or brainwashed wizards who had hunted him down? Or if there'd been an accident in the middle of the night, and he'd been left on his own without being attended to? Or if his depression was worse than Remus had initially feared, and he'd decided to go about erasing more than just his memory from the Earth?

A million different scenarios played their way through Remus' mind, each more violent and horrifying than the last, until his panic developed into a need for action. He drew his wand to see if breaking through the front window of the sitting room would be possible, when suddenly the door banged open. "Well come in already, if you're going to try to knock the damned thing down!" He heard a voice shout from deep inside of the house.

Remus quickly made his way through the sitting room into the workroom, and was preparing to explain himself when he noticed the healing salve brewing on the counter and the bandages up Severus' arm. "Merlin—" he gasped, stepping closer to get a look at it, but Severus pulled his singed sleeve down to cover it before he'd arrived. "What the hell happened?"

"A stupid, elementary mistake while I was decanting the aconite reagent for the Wolfsbane this morning." Severus winced as he pulled his hand farther away from Remus, and for the first time he noticed how dark the circles under his eyes were.

"When's the last time you slept, Evan?" He asked quietly, further noting the leftover tea cup and other utensils that littered the room, something he'd never have imagined he'd find in a workspace belonging to Severus Snape.

"As you so astutely noted yesterday, _Remus_," he spat his name as if it were a mockery of a dirty word, "the Wolfsbane potion requires a significant number of hours to brew—hours that I only barely have to spare before the full moon." He added a final stir to the healing salve, before trying to unwrap the bandage with his good hand.

"That's why I offered to help," Remus sighed, "the two of us working together on it would…"

"I don't have time to redo processes in order to cover someone else's mistakes." Severus responded moodily, and his movements grew more erratic as he began to notice that the salve was near to boiling over. He twisted the bandage violently trying to reach for the stirring rod in the cauldron and swore in pain.

Remus grabbed the cauldron out of his reach and gingerly began unwinding the tangled bandages. "And your failing to care for yourself will only make the process take longer," he lectured. "At the very least let me help with the less-complicated parts." Within a matter of moments the bandage was off of Snape's raw right hand.

Remus smacked his left hand back to his side before he could reach for the cauldron again, and grabbed the clean cloth he saw that Snape had prepared to apply the salve with. "You'll have to wait twenty minutes before this is completely healed," he murmured, dabbing the potion onto the blisters that covered most of the other man's skin. "In the meantime, I'm going to make you breakfast, and we'll clean this room up before we continue."

Snape grudgingly accepted his orders and allowed Remus to reapply the bandage to his hand. "Is there anything else you'd like, mother?" He asked sarcastically once the remainder of the salve had been banished.

"I think I'll stay and get dinner around tonight," Remus sighed as he binned the greasy fish and chip wrapper he'd found on the shelf. Severus looked ready to argue, but he cut him off. "You need to eat at some point, and we both know that eating anything back here is hardly beneficial to your health or your potion quality."

"Oh, very well then," Snape agreed, rolling his eyes as he began cleaning the main bench with his good hand.

Remus suspected that it would be a very long week ahead of them, but he hoped that it would be productive for all of his projects.

The selection in Severus' pantry had been discouragingly low, but Remus had managed to prepare a passable meal while allowing Severus the time to finish three additional steps in the brewing process before the workday was complete. As he sat in the kitchen waiting he realized his next great challenge—coaxing the man away from his workbench long enough to eat the damn thing.

After countless summonses, two shouting matches and a thrown parchment weight that only just missed a vital part of Remus anatomy, a highly irritated Severus finally joined an equally angry Remus Lupin at the table.

"If I'd known you'd be such a nag, I wouldn't have bothered asking you to stay late," he sneered, dropping into the chair.

"If I'd known you'd be so juvenile about it I wouldn't have bothered offering," Remus snapped back, thoroughly sick of the other man's antics.

The retort seemed to cool Severus down a fraction, and he quickly applied himself to the meal. "This is decent," he murmured as he inhaled the stew.

Remus tempered at the half-hearted compliment, figuring it was a start. "I did what I could with such limited resources—you need to buy groceries more often."

"An assistant, a maid _and _a minder in one—imagine my luck," Severus mumbled loudly enough to ensure Remus' hearing without looking up from his plate.

"I'll pick some necessities up from the grocer tomorrow," Remus responded pleasantly, choosing to ignore the barb.

For a long while the clink of flatware against plates was the only noise in the room, but Remus noted, with a hint of satisfaction, that it wasn't necessarily uncomfortable. He was nearly finished when Severus suddenly cleared his throat and twisted his napkins in his hands, inspecting it. "If it isn't too much trouble—the shipment of beetle's eyes wasn't powdered nearly fine enough for my liking, and I have three frogs that need skinning for a variant I've been planning… er, if it's not too much to ask before you leave…" he trailed off.

"I'd be happy to help," Remus answered with a sincere grin.

Severus nodded in appreciation, and Remus knew that the arguments of the day had been resolved.

* * *

As soon as Severus had finished capping the final vial of Wolfsbane potion, Remus suggested they celebrate their success with a special take-away dinner. Severus seemed to be in a particularly good mood now that the stress of completing the order in record time was out of the way and consented to Remus' idea. When he returned with the take-away from a particularly fine Italian Restaurant in Southowram, Remus was pleasantly surprised to find that Severus had elected to break out a new bottle of elf-made wine "to celebrate the occasion."

The food and the drink was excellent, and although Remus was fairly certain that neither of them had intended to finish the bottle of wine, the conversation seemed to grow quite pleasant as the level of liquid in the bottle continued to drop.

"In honor of completing the most gruesome deadline a Potion Master has ever set himself to," Remus laughed, raising yet another fresh glass of wine in a toast.

Severus laughed slightly in response. "I don't know that it was the most gruesome," he responded, "but I will definitely drink to finishing multiple variants in the same timeframe."

Remus watched in surprise as he tipped his glass back and drained it. "Multiple variants?"

"Mmm…" Severus nodded, returning his glass to the table. "You'll have your own brew… I've attempted to fuse in a bit of an analgesic—hopefully it will ease the pain of the transformation."

"You did that for me?" Remus asked, knowing that in his shock he probably looked rather like an inebriated owl.

Severus coughed, suddenly finding great interest in the top of the kitchen table. "You said you'd be willing to participate in some research… if you wouldn't mind being shackled for a while, I'll observe your transformation… make sure that the basic formula still works, check how efficient the pain killers are… it's in the name of improving the potion, really."

"Be that as it may, I'm touched by your thoughtfulness," Remus responded sincerely.

"It's only a research trial…" Severus stated irritably, shaking the compliment off. "Difficult though it is with you underfoot all the time, your presence will be hugely beneficial to continuing my experiments on the potion."

"And here I thought I was thinking that my presence was merely a pain in your side that you would endure until the end of the month," Remus smiled.

"It is a pain," Severus replied, "but I've never said that I wanted you to leave at the end of the month."

Remus could only stare in response, as he realized that Snape was—quite kindly, all things considered—inviting him to stay on as an assistant.

"I'm beginning to find the company and all rather tolerable, honestly," Severus responded, his eyelids becoming quite hooded as he played with his wine glass.

Remus smiled at the compliment, vague though it was. "I should be going," he sighed, draining his glass and setting it on the table. Severus grabbed his wrist before he could rise from his seat.

"You don't have to," he purred, staring into Remus' eyes.

"But what would that jilted lover think?" Remus asked breathlessly, a smile curving on his lips.

"I'm sure he'll find a way to move on," Severus whispered.

Remus wasn't sure if it was the wine, or the waxing moon, or the positively wicked look in Severus' eyes, but suddenly the wolf in him rose up with such ferocity that he'd all but knocked the other man out of his chair. He attacked his mouth with his own, and the two continued to kiss desperately until they were forced to stop for breath. Remus nipped at Severus' lower lip, drawing a delicious groan from the man as he began to unfasten the buttons of his high-necked collar. He started to turn his attentions to the long column of skin when he noticed the livid scar on his neck.

Two perfectly round, ugly purple puncture marks marred either side of Snape's jugular vein, and Remus' stomach rolled as he realized exactly how Lord Voldemort had tried to kill his most trusted spy. Severus must have noticed his hesitation, as he turned his attention from sucking Remus' earlobe to whisper, "Care of Magical Creatures accident, Seventh year."

He knew it was a lie, and he wished that he could call him on it—then praise him for all of the bravery and loyalty that he knew was the cause of the hideous mark. Since he couldn't do it verbally, he instead pressed a fervent kiss to the scar tissue, feeling Snape's blood pulse harder underneath his lips and thanking whatever deity had decided to make his survival possible. He flicked his tongue out to lick the raised skin, causing Snape to gasp and writhe up against him.

"We'll both hurt like hell if we continue here," Severus pointed out, although the way he was pulling Remus' hair indicated that he had no intention of asking him to stop.

Remus murmured his agreement into Severus' neck, but continued lathing the bite mark with his tongue.

"There's a perfectly good bed upstairs…" Severus began, before gasping as Remus hauled him to his feet and led the way out of the dining room.

The two somehow made their way up the narrow staircase, groping blindly at each other as they stumbled towards the master bedroom. Remus lowered Severus on to the bed as gently as he possibly could, considering how erratic his building lust had made his movements, before viciously tearing open the rest of the buttons down the front of Snape's robes. He hardly seemed to care, though, as he once again latched his lips to Remus' and began hitching his robes up over his waist.

Although he was certain that he'd barely be coherent, Remus grabbed his wand from where he'd heard it fall to the floor and quickly cast a _Divestimento _spell on the both of them, leaving them naked and writhing against each other. "A considerable improvement," he whispered into Snape's hair, as he tapped his wand to the cleft of his arse and cast a lubricating charm.

Snape moaned into Remus breastbone as the spell took affect, then fell back against the pillow, looking as hungry and eager as anything he'd ever seen.

"Merlin, you're beautiful." Remus whispered truthfully as he stared down at Snape—his cheeks high with color, his black eyes bright and sparkling with lust, and his dark hair fanned on the pillow.

"Shut up." The other man grunted, wrapping one long leg around Remus waist and pulling him down into himself with a moan of pleasure.

Once Remus began moving inside of him, he knew that he wouldn't last long. He found that he cared little, though, as he drank in the taste of Snape's neck and the beautiful noises that he continued to make beneath him. As his own pleasure built, he felt Severus shudder against him, and the hot, tight heat surrounding his prick constricted around him. Suddenly, the entire Earth seemed to shatter; he reveled in the feeling, thrusting one last time and shouting the only thing that his conscious mind still seemed capable of saying: "Severus!"

Even in the glorious aftermath of their coupling, Remus felt the body beneath him go still before Severus pushed him off of his person and scrambled from the bed. He stood beside the bed post, his naked chest heaving and his face still flushed, and Remus couldn't help but think that he would have been the epitome of sex if not for the wild, panicked look in his eyes.

"What did you just call me?" he asked quietly, his eyes not leaving Remus'.

Although he realized how catastrophic of a mistake he'd just made, Remus held eye contact with Severus and tried to continue on as if nothing was wrong. "I called you by your name."

The high color that had risen in Severus' cheeks paled to a ghastly white.

"You've remembered?" he whispered.

"I've known all along," Remus responded calmly, "you're Severus Snape. I've known you for years… I've just been carrying on the façade to…"

"WHO SENT YOU?!" Snape bellowed, the color in his face returning as quickly as it had left, but this time suffusing an ugly, brick red across his cheeks and temples.

"No one!" Remus answered, raising both of his hands as Snape looked like he would quickly become violent.

"Then WHY…" he was so angry that it seemed he was incapable of coherent speech.

"I'd come to find you on my own, to figure out why everyone else was…"

"GET OUT!" Snape cut him off, throwing his robes across his body.

"But I only…"

"I said GO!" he shouted again, and Remus complied as he saw him grab his wand from the bedside table.

Scooping up his shoes and his wand, Remus turned at the bedroom door to try to explain again, but fled from the room completely as a red streak of light hit the doorway just above his head. He pulled his robes on as he sprinted down the stairs and Apparated directly to his cabin from the sitting room.

* * *

His feet had only just touched the floor in the sitting room of his cabin, but Remus knew that he had to talk to Dumbledore's portrait as soon as possible. The clock on the mantle read that it was ten o'clock in the evening, but Remus knew that Minerva would still be awake and likely in her office.

Drawing his wand, he shouted "_Expecto Patronum_!" and was shocked to see a silvery bat burst from his wand. He stood in surprise and watched the small animal flit a couple of times around the room, before coming to his senses and calling it to attention.

"Tell Minerva that I urgently need to speak to Headmaster Dumbledore's portrait, and that I would appreciate Floo access to the school." The small image flapped its wings a few more times in front of him, before flying out of the room and dissolving through the wall that pointed in the direction of Hogwarts.

Remus used the time that he knew it would take the message to reach Headmaster McGonagall to quickly clean up and calm himself down. So many things had gone pear shaped within the hour—and yet Severus' reaction had confirmed that he _had _been the one to create and cast the spell, and that he _did _know fully who he was and likely held onto his memories prior to the war. It would be difficult, but Remus knew that if he could convince him that he had _not _been hated after the final battle, and in fact would be exonerated in the post-war Wizarding society, that there might be a way to convince him to come back… hopefully with him.

He paused and stared in the bathroom mirror, knowing that he was likely getting ahead of himself, then shook his head and ran back to the sitting room to wait for Minerva's response. He'd been staring at the front page of the Daily Prophet blindly for an indeterminable amount of time, when the fireplace in the room finally flared green.

"Remus? The connection is open now, if you'd like to step through." McGonagall's voice said through the flames, and he squared his shoulders and stepped into the hearth before he could think better of it.

"I'm sorry," he explained, stepping out into the office and brushing the soot off of his clothes, "but this couldn't wait until morning, and I really needed to check with Professor Dumbledore…"

"What is it?" the portrait behind the desk asked.

Remus stepped around McGonagall, glancing at her apologetically, and began explaining what had happened to the portrait. "I've just returned from Spinner's End—tell me that _you_ at least remember why I was there."

Dumbledore nodded. "Why didn't you tell me that you remembered him last time I talked to you?" Remus asked.

Minerva looked from the portrait to Remus, seeming troubled. "Remembered who, exactly?" she asked quietly.

"Severus Snape," Remus spit out, suddenly angrier than he had intended to be. "The one that all of you have forgotten, the one that Albus has _let _us forget!"

"I didn't want to spoil his wishes," Dumbledore's portrait said sadly, "his curse couldn't work on me, obviously, but until you approached me I hadn't known that anyone would recall enough of him for any intervention of mine to have been successful."

"So you decided to let him vanish?!" Remus shouted, feeling angrier at Dumbledore than he'd ever remembered.

"I let fate run its course," Albus answered crossly. "Contrary to what he may believe, I did care a great deal for Severus Snape. However, I'm no longer in any position to make him believe that fact, and until there is someone who _can_ show him that he's more than an instrument, simply acknowledging that he cast an enchantment on his own memory will do no one any good."

"How do I convince him of that, then? That those who are left did—do—care for him?" Remus asked, suddenly desperate for any ideas that Dumbledore would have.

"Tell him what you're able to find out from the others," Albus answered.

"That's unhelpfully vague," Remus growled, wishing the portrait would give him a straight answer, as he had so many times wanted the wizard to do when he had been alive.

"Minerva, tell Remus what you've been telling me," the portrait stated, without looking at Remus.

McGonagall frowned between Remus and Dumbledore, apparently flustered over being pulled into the conversation in such a way. "I fail to see how what's been going on here relates…"

"Your memory's been troubling you?" Remus asked gently.

"It's… I don't feel that I could have forgotten anything so important, but I know that someone's been missing from our commemorations," Minerva responded blankly. "And our history… I know that neither of the Carrows was headmaster last year, but I can't…"

"You don't recall the man who was?" Remus asked.

McGonagall shook her head. "I've told Albus this enough times… I know him. And I know the dark haired young man and I know that they were related, but I don't know how. I don't forget my own students, especially not those that I worked with," she said desperately.

"And neither Remus nor I suspect that you would, Minerva," Albus said quietly. "But I do believe that Remus could tell us all about him and help fill those memories in—he's been working with our old Potion's Master; and I believe that we both know what he's done."

Remus stared blankly between the portrait and the witch.

"The spell relied on the emotions of all of the people that it worked on. Severus intended for no one to have positive feelings toward him, and so he assumed that it would work and wipe him completely from everyone's memory," Albus explained, patiently.

Remus continued staring at the portrait. "So… so these vague memories that Minerva has…"

"And the full memories that you have, proves his assumption wrong," Albus nodded.

"And the partial memories that the others have?" Remus asked.

"Show the same thing," Albus smiled, slightly. "Gather them, and take them to him, Remus. No one else can break the spell that he cast—he'd have made sure of that."

"You think that he'd actually believe me? That evidence that we remember him would be enough to convince him to break the spell and return?"

"I believe once he understands how deeply your own feelings run, and how many other people are being affected by his spell, that he will listen to reason. It may be hard to believe, but Severus Snape was only ever really looking for respect and companionship—if he realized how easily he could attain that as himself, I believe that he could be convinced to come back and strive for it."

Remus nodded and turned to McGonagall, who still seemed highly confused. "I'm sorry for the interruption, Minerva… I hope that it will make sense soon."

"I do, too," Minerva responded, still looking entirely out of sorts. "Best of luck to you."

With a nod and a smile, Remus threw a handful of Floo powder into the office fire and returned to his cabin.

* * *

"What d'you mean, 'didn't work out'?" Harry asked, a worried frown miring his brow as he sat across from Remus over tea.

"Personal differences and some other rot—I thought that things were going well, but in the end he decided that the assistant idea wasn't getting on, and that he could accomplish more brewing on his own."

"But you said that the two of you were productive…" Harry countered.

"I know, it just… didn't work." Remus lied, sipping his rapidly cooling tea for no other reason than giving him something to do other than stare into the boy's disappointed face.

"So… now what?"

"Pardon?"

"What will you do, now?" Harry asked, fiddling with his spoon.

The awkwardness of the conversation had reached such a level that Remus felt they should switch sides of the table—it was outright embarrassing to have a seventeen year old posing such questions to him.

"I suppose… wait around a while and look for further employment," he sighed.

Harry nodded. "Andromeda said you hadn't been by too recently… Teddy's started sitting up on his own."

Remus murmured in response, not quite paying attention to what Harry was saying.

"Have you considered counseling?"

"Excuse me?" he asked, dragged back into the conversation.

"Grief counseling. It was Hermione's suggestion, and St. Mungo's is actually offering it now—I've gone a couple of times, and it's quite helpful, really… some Muggle treatment for depression… even Purebloods are beginning to show an interest in it. I just thought… I don't know, after everything, that it might help," Harry shrugged, and appeared to be realizing just how strange the conversation had become. "I'm sorry, you just seemed… especially after everything that's happened… and it's really helped me."

"I'll take it into consideration," Remus answered with a smile, touched at the boy's concern. "Enough about my wellbeing, then… how are _you _doing, Harry?"

He waited as Harry swilled the tea in his cup, seemingly looking for the answer at the bottom of it. "I've… I've been having dreams."

"Oh, Harry," Remus sighed, genuinely concerned. "I'm so sorry… is it from…"

"No," Harry shook his head violently, "I mean… I have those, too, the awful ones from the battle. No, the reason I started going was because of other ones, more general ones… they're hard to explain."

"Why did they convince you to begin… therapy?" Remus asked, gently.

"It's how bloody _real _they are," Harry said, his eyes suddenly over-bright, "and they've always got the same man… this batty older guy, who always seems completely evil, but no matter what nasty things happen to me during the dream, he's there to save me." He took a deep breath, "It's not that they're disturbing, per say, it's the way that they don't stop happening."

Remus reminded himself to breathe, taking in the information as much as he could. "And you've talked about it at therapy?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, "and weirdly enough, I run into Draco bleeding Malfoy while I'm there, and the tosser has the audacity to say that he's been having the same problem."

Remus paled at the implications.

"I know… it was disturbing enough when I was having them on my own, but now Malfoy's thinking he's gone completely 'round the bend, because on top of the dreams, he has all of these feelings that he's got a life debt and he's missing a mentor and some other barmy details… he spends his entire group sessions prattling on about it."

"Can he say anything more specific?" Remus asked, praying that another person would at least remember some concrete details.

"Only that he describes that the bloke should look the same as the man in my dreams," Harry shuddered. "Neither of us can figure out what the hell is going on, and the healers are stumped, too. Malfoy still insists that something must have happened to us at the school, during the final battle, but…" he shrugged.

Remus heard the last of the explanation, before setting his cup down and excusing himself. "I have an appointment I completely forgot about," he explained apologetically, and although Harry looked doubtful of his excuse, he was infinitely grateful to the boy for giving him the last bit of information Remus figured he would need.

* * *

Remus Apparated directly back to the alley that ran belong Spinner's End, hoping that he'd have enough evidence to convince Severus of how deeply his absence was affecting the Wizarding world, and more importantly, that the day of absence had helped at least some of his anger from their previous meeting dissipate. The pragmatist in him knew that he was probably asking for far too much.

He marched quickly to the final house on the street and rapped loudly on the door, and was equally unsurprised to feel an identification spell followed by a second wave of magic, which he could only assume was a strengthening of the wards to let him in.

"I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE, SNAPE!" he shouted, pounding on the door again and receiving a brief shock for his actions.

"Playing that, then?!" he yelled, rubbing his hand to alleviate some of the sting. "I've been talking to the others since you kicked me out! I wanted to tell you why your spell isn't working!"

He'd assumed that would get some reaction out of the other man, but the door remained resolutely shut. It only made Remus more desperate—he began aggravatingly pounding on the door again, trying to ignore its sting.

"You're making the SAME mistake as your master did, Snape! That's why I remembered you, that's why your plan isn't working—you're turning out to be the SAME AS HIM!" he screamed the final part, regretting the false accusations that he was making and how Severus would interpret them, but knowing it was one of his only chances of outwitting the stubborn Slytherin.

He took a deep breath to begin another tirade, when he suddenly found the door wide open and a wand in his face. "Shout another allegation like that last one and you'll find just how similar we can be," Snape said icily, his dark eyes shining with anger as the tip of his wand pulsed with a dull green light.

Remus swallowed the sudden panic that built in his chest, knowing that anger was going to be the only way he'd get through to the other man. "I know why it's not working."

"You've made that much abundantly obvious," Severus snapped, his wand still pointed between Remus eyes, "you should announce it a bit louder—I believe there are still a few Muggles at the end of the lane who haven't heard your blathering."

"Let me explain what I've found and you won't have to worry about them hearing." Remus stated simply.

Snape's eyes, as usual, scanned the lane. "For the love of Merlin," Remus huffed, "would you please cease the paranoia. I'm here alone, as I always am." He drew his wand from his pocket and handed it to Snape, handle first. "Let me in, I will explain," he said earnestly.

Severus took the wand, and warily let his own drop from Remus' face. With a sigh he stepped aside and permitted entry to the house, before quickly closing and warding the door behind him. He turned to face Remus in the entryway and folded his hands across his chest, still holding both of their wands. "Explain," he said brusquely, glaring at Remus as if he were one of his students.

"I spoke to Albus…"

"Dumbledore is dead," Snape cut him off.

"I've been aware of that for over a year," Remus snapped back. "But as you well know, his portrait is quite the useful source of information. I went to him before I came to see you—to ask him why I seemed to be the only one who hadn't completely forgotten Severus Snape."

Severus flinched slightly at the use of his name, but otherwise showed no reaction to what Remus had said.

"He'd been very vague at the time, but when I went to see him again the night we… well, he admitted that he remembered you completely, and he confirmed what we had been suspecting all along."

Snape stared at him in silence a few moments, before prompting him, "Go on…"

"You cast the spell… you made up some enchantment that would wipe people's minds of select memories, and you counted on their feelings of you to enhance the spell's effects, and to make them forget you completely."

Severus' face was so still that it could have been a marble statue.

"The problem is that you relied on negative feelings for the magic to work—you figured that no one would have enough positive feelings to overcome the spell, and that all of that…" Remus' voice broke, as the tragedy of Severus' assumptions truly sank in. "You believed that all of that _hate _would work to completely erase _you_."

Snape still didn't move.

"Did you honestly believe that none of us cared enough for you for it to be unsuccessful?" Remus asked sadly.

Severus made a scathing noise, tossing Remus wand at him. "This is the tripe that you were creating such a fuss about? Some half-cocked story of love and devotion for dear old Snape that is just emanating from everyone he left behind? If you believe for one second that I'd buy that load of rot, you're even more addled than I thought."

"You know, when I woke up after that first moon, Hermione told me about how frantic Draco and Harry had been the day after the battle."

"I would suspect so," Severus responded smartly, "considering what they'd been through."

"They'd actually called a truce for long enough to go recover your body from the Shrieking Shack," Remus spoke over him. "She said they were both nearly out of their minds when they returned to the castle—they assumed that one of the fleeing Death Eaters had taken it."

Severus pursed his lips. "So they elected not to leave me to rot in that bloody hellhole, how touching…"

"That doesn't explain what happened after you cast the bloody spell!" Remus spat, growing more frustrated by the minute.

"Why some poor, delusional werewolf had convinced himself to i _fall in love /i _with me and remember our every i _happy /i _memory together?" Severus sneered.

"I didn't fall in love with you until very recently," Remus admitted truthfully, "but I have cared for you since we taught together, and I thought that you would at least be observant enough realize how many of your other colleagues did as well."

Snape scoffed but offered no response.

"You don't believe me? None of them retained their memories the way I did, no… but Minerva's spent the past month confused and heartbroken. She _knows _that she's forgetting to acknowledge someone, and she's spending all of her waking hours trying to figure out who it is and what she was supposed to do for him." Seeing no response from the other man, Remus decided to continue on.

"Draco, of all people, has been attending counseling and getting treatments at St. Mungo's because he's certain he's been cursed."

This at least drew a frown from Severus. "That's right—he's convinced he owes a life debt to someone, and he knows that he's lost a mentor, but he can't remember his name or his face, and he thinks that its Voldemort's doing for electing not to support him in the end."

"The Malfoy's didn't fight in the final battle?" he asked quietly.

"Apparently not. But it's Harry's response that has been surprising me the most..."

"Oh yes," Snape returned to sneering, "because we were _such_ chums before the spell."

Remus ignored the gibe. "It started that he couldn't see the whole pictures that you left in your textbook of his mum… he saw Lily, and he saw the aura of you, but he figured that the camera was out of focus because he didn't see your face. And now he's dreaming, and keeps bringing up this benevolent bastard that he knows is the reason that we won the war. He knows that another person deserves just as much credit for their bravery and love as he is getting."

Severus refused to acknowledge a thing Remus had said.

"Severus, he'd been fighting to have your name cleared—to give you a posthumous Order of Merlin and a portrait in the Headmasters office, before you cast the spell. Him, and the entire Order… we all realized what you had done, and how much we owed you, and we all wished to be able to at the very least pay our respects to your memory. You took that away from us."

"I did what I needed to do to gain a new life," Severus said, sounding wary. "I was tired of being a tool and a lackey, and I didn't know any other way to ensure that my survival wouldn't chain me to another forced allegiance and life of duty. This was the easiest way to reenter society… to come back as someone new."

"Severus," Remus whispered sadly, crossing the room and hesitatingly taking his face into his hands. "You deserve better than that. You deserve to be forgiven. You deserve that new life as _yourself_, not as this… pitiful caricature that you've half-heartedly created."

The insult drew a small smile from the other man. "I didn't realize how bad the pseudonym was until I heard you say it," Snape admitted quietly.

Remus laughed, despite himself. "It was bloody awful. I nearly didn't come, I thought it was too hopeful to believe that you were here—I never expected so poorly from you." He allowed silence to settle between them while Severus considered his evidence.

"They won't like what they remember," Snape said, lamely.

"No, but we'll have the chance to make them get over it," Remus took his hand in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

"What if I don't want to do that? I'm not intending to change to please many others."

"I'm not expecting you to," Remus responded gently. "In fact, I'd be rather disappointed if you did. I was growing quite fond of you just the way you are."

Severus sighed and finally returned his wand to him, twirling his own in his right hand. "I just… there will be so much distrust and resistance. Even if I'm pardoned, I won't be forgiven—not for a long while."

"Not by the entire Wizarding World, no. In some cases, people will probably never be willing to be forgiving, but to those who really matter, I'm sure that you won't have to worry. Either way, I promise that I'll be with you," Remus added, as sincerely as possible.

"Even when I'm at my most impatient?" Severus asked with a frown.

"Always," Remus sighed, briefly pressing a kiss to the line between his brows. For a moment he felt the press of Legillemency on Snape's behalf, and he opened his mind to every thought of love and respect that he'd felt for the other man. He surprised even himself to realize that the memories, brief and incomplete though most of them were, extended all the way back to their time at Hogwarts, when even Remus had failed to realize that his grudging respect for the stoic, intelligent young Slytherin was growing into something more; then led all the way up to the agony that he felt after learning that he hadn't survived the final battle, and the joy of realizing there was a potential that he was still alive. The sensation of sharing his mind with another subsided as quickly as it had began, and he knew that he'd been satisfied with the spell's results.

With a shaky breath, Severus raised his wand, and his hand gripped even tighter to Remus' as he whispered the incantation, "_Finite Incantatum."_

* * *

**Epilogue: **_**15 Years Later**_

"JAMES POTTER! So help me Merlin, if I see you do that to your sister _one more time_, I can assure you that I will have your father ground you until you are _at least_ seventeen."

The boy, looking so much like his grandfather that Severus occasionally found himself taken aback, had at least enough sense to look contrite as he mumbled an apology and returned to playing with his model Quidditch set.

Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose as he waited for the younger red-head to return to his side on the sofa. "And Lily, you need to let your brother be, too. Harassing him will only lead to trouble."

"Yes Uncle Sev'rus." She responded mechanically, shooting a glare towards her brother as she settled back and waited for him to resume reading.

Remus would pay _so _dearly, he thought viciously, as he turned the page of the migraine inducing _Barney the Barmy's Battles with Banshees_. It was his fault that, rather than spending one of his few afternoons free from brewing relaxing with his favorite werewolf, he was stuck watching Potter's three spawn. But of course, Hermione Weasley was busy at a Charms conference, Ronald Weasley was investigating a highly important case with the Auror department and couldn't be bothered, Ginevra Potter was covering the Quidditch World Cup in Germany, and Remus wanted to use the guest lecture at Hogwarts with Harry to get a chance to visit Teddy. Never mind that Severus would have been just as eager to duel with Potter, and to visit his own step-son… one of the few children he'd ever met whom he actually found tolerable.

"Can we do something else?" asked the boy sitting next to him. "This book is SO boring."

Severus might have snapped at his whinging, had he not been so heavily in agreement. Of course, Potter's middle brat had the annoying ability of being able to charm him, despite his unfortunate beginnings. Potter still insisted—with great amusement, no less—that the most impressive bawling out he had ever received had come the morning he'd owled Remus and Snape with little Albus Severus' birth announcement. How anyone could possibly saddle a poor, innocent babe with such a name, he still found himself ranting…

"Could you just _tell _us a story, instead?" Al asked, his emerald eyes showing just enough charisma that Snape found him impossible to refuse.

Before the request had been granted, however, Severus was relieved to hear the front door open as Remus and Harry returned from their day.

James and Lily made a dash for their father, both eager to return home, while Al leaned closer to Snape momentarily. "Next time you'll teach me potions or Parseltongue, right?"

"I've told you," Severus whispered conspiratorially, "Parseltongue can't be taught, and you have to be an _Heir _of Slytherin, not just a member of the house to do it. We could work on brewing something, though, provided you can get your siblings to conduct themselves appropriately."

Albus smiled and nodded before bounding off to join Harry. "They behaved, I hope?" Potter asked, deliberately staring at his older son.

"James didn't," Al and Lily both chimed in, before Severus had the opportunity to respond. Harry looked exasperatedly towards him, nonetheless.

"They were better than expected," he offered unhelpfully, and Harry gave him a sarcastic smile as he made his way out the door. "Thank you Severus, and take care Remus!" he shouted over his shoulder, and at least two barely coherent "Sev'Rus!" piped up as the door shut behind him.

Snape waited a moment before turning to Remus with a scowl.

"Oh, come now, they couldn't have been that intolerable," Remus had the nerve to laugh.

"Three and a half readings of _Barney the Barmy_," he snarled in response.

Remus winced. "If it makes you feel better," he sighed, moving closer to his mate and threading his fingers into his hair, "Harry got the better of me six times during our duel. And Teddy is doing well… he sends his regards."

It took all of Severus' well-developed self control not to concede defeat as Remus continued to wind his fingers through the hairs at the base of his neck. "That's all well and good… but it's not making me feel any better."

"No? What can I do to help, then?" Remus asked innocently, although the sudden gleam in his eyes betrayed his intentions to be anything but.

"Oh, I believe the only remedy for this headache is going to be a rather painful werewolf punishment?"

"Punishment, eh?" Remus asked huskily, a grin spreading across his face.

"Oh yes, possibly with the paddle and everything…" Snape snarled, grabbing his wrist and removing the hand from his hair.

"Promises," Remus sighed wistfully, grinning as Severus pulled him up the stairs toward their bedroom.

Life was far from perfect—Severus still received the occasional Howler at home and wary glances when he ventured into Diagon Alley, and both he and Remus had to admit that their war wounds, both physical and emotional, hurt them more than they liked to acknowledge. But, he thought as he hurried to undress, he was certainly in love with his damned werewolf, and Remus seemed to tolerate him as well, which was more than he had hoped for all of those years ago when he found himself alive.

It was his last coherent thought as Remus pulled him down onto the bed. Things weren't perfect, but they were better than Severus Snape had ever imagined that they could be. All was well.

* * *

**Prompt: **Post-DH, both are alive (somehow. I'll leave it up to you.) Severus has somehow managed to orchestrate a spell to make everyone forget that he ever existed. Remus, however, remembers, and attempts to find Severus and discover why he is the only one with any recollection of the man (if one were overly sentimental, one might think that love might have something to do with it whistles innocently) Scenes where Remus slowly realizes that no one else remembers what Severus did might be interesting, as would Severus' reaction to finding Remus one day on his doorstep. Happy ending would be lovely. And Teddy somehow not being Remus' son. 


End file.
